


In Regards to Love - Phobos

by Brandi0704



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff and Angst, Grad Student!Otabek, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potya is a good bro, Victor Nikiforov is a total mom, Yuri's got some intrusive thoughts my dudes, but that won't stop him from being a lil' shit, everybody is a sassmaster, mamma mia that's a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14326035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brandi0704/pseuds/Brandi0704
Summary: “Listen, asshole,” he started. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? I’m Yu—”“Yuri Plisetsky, the ‘Ice Tiger of Russia’. At your age, you’re the most decorated figure skater in the country. You’re known for your insane flexibility and your attitude, both on and off the ice. When you were only fifteen years old, you shattered the men’s short world record by almost eight points,” he remained inscrutable as he listed this information off like a walking encyclopedia. “Congratulations on that, by the way. That’ll be 124.23 pyб.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody and welcome to my first ever fic! This is going to be an absolute train wreck, so I hope you've come prepared.
> 
> If you'd like to come fangirl with me on Tumblr, feel free. You can find me @stfubrandi
> 
> *Before we get started, I'd just like to say that the dates and times in this story are not randomized, I've plotted out an entire school/training schedule for Yuri and know when and where he is supposed to be at all times.
> 
> ** Also, Yuri trains at the rink on his university campus because this is my fic and I do what I want.

**TUESDAY**

 

The alarm rang out in the silence of the early morning. Yuri’s arm shot out from under his comforter and rapidly patted around his bed in an attempt to blindly find the snooze button.

_Fuck right off…_

Yuri lifted his head to locate the source of the music, spotting the blinding light half-hidden under his pillow. He reached for his phone and quickly turned off the alarm, plunging the room into silence once more.

He could feel a light weight shifting next to him, perching itself right against his abdomen. Yuri let out a heavy sigh before whispering a quick apology to Potya and maneuvering himself out of bed, trying his best not to disturb her.

After turning on his bedroom light, Yuri walked into the en suite, emerging minutes later and stopping in front of his closet. He opted for a royal blue zip-up hoodie over his normal black practice attire and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror and shrugged before giving Potya one final scratch behind the ears and heading downstairs.

“Good morning, Yurio!”

Yuri rolled his eyes at the nickname and took a seat on one of the kitchen island’s bar stools. Viktor placed a plate of bacon, egg whites, and toast in front of him before throwing on his parka and grabbing his car keys.

“You know, Viktor, you don’t have to get up extra early every morning just to make me breakfast,” Yuri said as he picked up a piece of bacon. He examined it before continuing, “I can make it myself.”

“A protein bar and a few grapes aren’t breakfast, kiddo,” Viktor stated as he pulled out his phone to check the time, visibly relaxing when he saw that it was only 04.53. He still had time. “When I moved in here, I promised your grandfather I’d look after you, since you’re terrible at looking after yourself.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes but continued to eat. He would never admit this out loud, but Yuri was secretly thankful that Viktor cared enough about him to get up every morning to make sure he got a healthy start to his day.

Minutes passed, and Viktor checked his phone again. He sighed. “Alright, I’m off to go give cranky, caffeine-deprived humans their fix. I’ll be home around 2.30,” he said and began walking towards the door. “Have a good day, Yurio.”

When he heard the front door click, Yuri turned his attention back to his meal. Finished, he quickly rinsed his plate and put it into the dishwasher before washing his hands. After putting on his jacket, he gathered his books and his duffle bag and headed out to his car.

As per usual, the drive to the rink was quiet. City streets littered with only those either getting an early start to their day or just finishing up for the night. Yuri parked in his normal spot in the large and nearly vacant parking lot. He grabbed everything he needed out of the backseat and headed inside the building, going straight to the locker room.

Yuri had just finished his warm-up when he heard the familiar rhythm of his free skate selection like a dampened heartbeat. He sat hunched over on the old wooden bench, damp laces creating grooves in his fingers as he tied up his skates. It was a reminder of how hard he’d worked yesterday, but today was a new day, and he was ready to push even harder.

Yuri stood up and leaned forward, making sure he had just enough wiggle room. Satisfied, he turned towards the bench and reached into his open duffle bag to grab his—

 _Shit_.

Opening the bag wider, his eyes frantically sought out his water bottle, but to no avail.

“Well, that’s just fucking great,” he thought aloud.

Yuri looked up at the time. 05.54. Okay, he had six minutes before Yakov would rip his head off. That was fine, he could just go over to the canteen and get some water from them. Putting in his headphones and dropping his duffle bag into his locker, he walked out of the locker room and into the hallway.

When he reached the canteen, he found that it was empty in the front, but he could hear a slight clatter of metal coming from the back. Not finding himself in the mood to be murdered by his coach, Yuri tried to get the attention of somebody – _anybody_ – that may be working. He peered over the counter in hopes that he would be heard a bit clearer.

“Um, hello?” he called out.

“I’ll be right there!” a disembodied voice replied from what Yuri could only assume was the kitchen. Less than two seconds later, somebody rounded the corner, stopping in front of the counter that separated them. “Hey, what can I get for you?”

Yuri took a good look at the guy. He was a bit taller than himself, even with the added inches of his skates, had a natural tan that any spring breaker would die for, and dark brown hair with an undercut that could put all others to shame. He donned the same boring uniform that all employees at the rink wore, but _mercy_ , this guy looked good in that navy polo shirt and black slacks. Yuri realized that he was probably staring and immediately reached for the phone in his back pocket. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, trying his best to look distracted by his phone.

 _Subtle_.

“Can I just get some water?” Yuri asked, trying not to show this complete stranger that he was on the verge of making him drool. Perhaps he needed to come to the canteen more often…

“Yeah, sure,” the guy turned away and Yuri sent a silent thank you to whatever celestial being may be out there for the quick glimpse he got of his arms. He slid the refrigerator door open, grabbing a bottle of water and spinning back around to face Yuri, who had already looked back down at his device. “That’ll be 124.23 pyб.”

Yuri’s eyes shot up from his phone. “You can’t be serious.”

An eyebrow on the employee instantly arched in challenge, but his face remained stoic.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that water isn’t free here?” When the brunette stayed impassive, Yuri gestured wildly towards the fountain down the hall. “It’s free in the fountain over there!”

“Drink from the fountain, then.”

“I can’t!” Yuri insisted more forcefully. Was this guy serious? After taking a deep breath and regaining his composure, he continued. “I can’t keep getting on and off the ice just to run back and forth to hydrate. I’m a professional, I require my focus on the ice at all times. I can’t do that if I’m dying of thirst.”

“Hmm,” the employee brought a hand to his chin and seemed to consider this for a moment. “That’s rough.”

Yuri’s face softened, he was finally receiving the pity he deserved. “Yeah, so, if you could just give me the water, I can be on my merry way to practice so that my coach doesn’t commit homicide.”

“Sure, for 124.23 pyб.”

 _Alright, that’s it_.

Yuri slammed one hand down on the counter, the other pointing up towards the stranger’s face. “Listen, asshole,” he started. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? I’m Yu—”

“Yuri Plisetsky, the ‘Ice Tiger of Russia’. At your age, you’re the most decorated figure skater in the country. You’re known for your insane flexibility and your attitude, both on and off the ice. When you were only fifteen years old, you shattered the men’s short world record by almost eight points,” he remained inscrutable as he listed this information off like a walking encyclopedia. “Congratulations on that, by the way. That’ll be 124.23 pyб.”

Yuri stared at the guy in complete shock. How was a person even supposed to reply to that? He couldn’t find the words to express how he felt, because he wasn’t even sure he knew _how_ he felt. Angry? Dumbfounded? Flattered? He must have looked like a deer in headlights though because the next thing said was laced with quite possibly the only emotion he was going to get out of the stranger.

“What’s wrong, Tiger?” he smirked. “Cat got your tongue?”

 _Pride_.

_Fuck this guy._

Yuri stormed back into the locker room. He opened his locker and pulled out his wallet from the duffle bag and walked back to the awaiting cashier. He threw the currency onto the counter and ripped the water bottle out of the employee’s grasp. He then turned to walk away.

“Have a nice day!” The guy waved after him.

Yuri stuck up his middle finger and didn’t spare a second glance at the employee as he walked towards the large brown doors leading to the rink. He glanced at the clock, not even caring that he was now twelve minutes late for practice.

Yakov, however, was going to shit a chicken.

Sure enough, when Yuri took off his guards and stepped onto the ice, Yakov looked as though he was ready to dropkick Yuri into oblivion.

“Blow it out your ass, old man.”

 

***

 

Yuri didn’t like to watch the clock in class, but he’d never felt so exhausted after a weekday practice.

Yakov was brutal that morning, lecturing Yuri for a good ten minutes about how the slightest amount of time can make a world of a difference. Yuri, being in the pungent mood that he was, only made it worse when he pointed out to Yakov that _he_ was wasting sacred practice time by lecturing him.

He tried turning his attention back to the petite woman at the front of the room, who was preparing to hand back the assignment from last week. He’d stayed up past midnight on the night that it was due, despite spending all week on it. Yuri already knew he wasn’t doing well in this course, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t retain any information.

Yuri crossed his arms and slouched back in his seat in a way that would have Lilia screaming at him about posture until he had grandchildren. He dreaded the thought of seeing his mark, but he wasn’t about to let the entire class know that.

“Alright class,” Dr. Shirokov said cheerfully. “Once I call your name and hand back your assignment, you’re free to go. I’ll see you all on Thursday!”

Trying to avoid the inevitable, his mind wandered back to the altercation that morning. What the hell had that been about? How could he have let some irrelevant nobody under his skin like that? Yuri Plisetsky didn’t get _flustered_ , people feared him, for crying out loud!

The moment he heard his name being called, Yuri’s anxiety skyrocketed. It was amazing, really, how Yuri could go up in front of thousands of people and skate without a single care in the world, but when it came to his grades, he couldn't feel more helpless. He stood up and tossed his backpack over his shoulder while he walked to the front of the class. He didn’t dare look at his professor, and with slightly trembling hands he took his assignment from her and got out of the room as quickly as he could. Only when he was out of sight from everybody in a unoccupied hallway did he spare a glance at his mark.

His felt his heart sink when he saw the red F circled in the top right-hand corner. He had a feeling it was coming but wasn’t ready to accept it just yet. Yuri crumpled up the assignment and shoved it deep into his backpack. Hoisting the bag over his shoulder once again, he took off down the stairs and walked as fast as he could out of the building.

_You’re not going to be a skater forever._

Yuri scrambled to find his headphones. He shoved them into his ears and put his music on full blast in a futile attempt to drown out the voices that refused to leave his head. He plastered an antagonizing look on his face, a sure-fire way to ensure that nobody would try and stop him as he walked to his car on the other side of campus.

Despite the looks and choice words he knew he was receiving, Yuri shoved his way through crowds and never stopped looking forward. At one point, somebody had ripped out one of his headphones, grabbed his arm and moved themselves in front of him. They demanded to know what his problem was, but upon recognizing who they were talking to, the stranger let him go.

Finally reaching his car, he got in and slammed the door shut. He threw his backpack into the backseat and stared at his steering wheel in frustration before turning on the engine.

_You’re better than this._

Yuri put the car in drive and sped out of the parking lot. He could only go as fast as rush hour would allow but was pulling up to his driveway in no time.

Shaking hands caused him to fumble with his keys, but he managed to get in the door and up the stairs to his bedroom in record time. He locked the door and threw his bags into the corner of the room, then lowered himself onto the floor beside his bed and hugged his knees to his chest. Yuri could hear his housemates questioning his actions from downstairs but couldn’t be bothered to try eavesdropping.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at the coffee-brown walls of his bedroom, but he eventually heard light footsteps make their way towards him. A soft knock came at the door, followed by an amiable voice he knew all too well.

“Yurio, it’s just me, will you please open up?”

Though every voice in his head told him not to, Yuri maneuvered himself just enough to be able to unlock the door before repositioning himself next to the bed. He heard the quiet creak of the door opening and immediately Yuri’s senses were stimulated by the aroma of maple syrup.

“Yuuri made breakfast for dinner,” Viktor started. “We weren’t sure if you’d want some, but I know how much you like his pancakes, even if you won’t admit it.”

Despite the glare he gave him at the mention of his beloved, Yuri stood up and gently reached for the plate to take from Viktor’s hands. Holding it away from himself, Yuri sat himself on his bed, crossing his legs and then lowering the plate in front of him. He poured the small side container of syrup on his pancakes and used his fork to cut a piece off. He had to force himself not to roll his eyes in pleasure as he took his first bite of the fluffy goodness. If there was one thing that Katsudon was good at, it was preparing meals that made Yuri consider being slightly nicer to him.

_Yeah, right._

A few minutes had gone by, and only the sound of metal scraping against porcelain filled the room as Yuri finished up his pancakes. It was him who broke the silence.

“I failed my assignment,” he said quietly. Yuri could tell Viktor was looking at him with concern, but he refused to meet his gaze in fear of coming off as vulnerable. “There goes thirteen percent of my final grade.”

“Message your professor?” Viktor suggested. “Maybe set up an appointment and go over your assignment, or see if there’s anything you can do to make up for it?”

Yuri mulled it over. This would probably be his only chance to improve, and it was still early in the semester, surely, he could still do well in the course. But then scheduling would be another issue, Yuri barely had enough time as it was, how could he possibly handle making time to work for extra credit? He would just have to suck it up, his education was just as important to him as figure skating.

Okay, maybe not _that_ important, but still.

“I guess there’s no harm in e-mailing her.”

Viktor nodded. “It’s worth a shot, because you know I'll have to kill you if your grades start slipping," he winked.

Rolling his eyes, Yuri got up and walked to the corner of his room. He retrieved his laptop from his discarded backpack and sat back down on the bed. After opening up his computer, he went straight for his school email account and opened up a fresh document.

 

 **To:** **marie.shirokov@spbu.ru**

**From: plisetsky@spbu.ru**

**Subject: PSYC2850 Assignment 1**

 

**Good evening Dr. Shirokov,**

**I was wondering if it would be possible to set up an appointment with you tomorrow. I wasn’t very pleased with my mark and am wondering if there’s anything I can do to make up for it.**

**Thank you,**

**Yuri**

 

Yuri felt a small weight lift off his shoulders after hitting send and closing his laptop. After a bit of persuasion, Viktor had convinced him to go downstairs and actually socialize with the others. However, it wasn’t long before he had had enough of Mila and Katsudon’s constant Yuri-targeted badinage and went back upstairs, Potya in tow.

He was on his phone, browsing through his favorite online store trying to find a new pair of leopard print shoes when he got the notification.

 

 **To:** **plisetsky@spbu.ru**

**From: marie.shirokov@spbu.ru**

**Subject: Re: PSYC2850 Assignment 1**

 

**Good evening Mr. Plisetsky,**

**I am able to meet with you any time between 09.00 and 11.00 tomorrow. Please let me know if it interferes with any classes or practices that you may have, we can try to work something out.**

**If I may also suggest, it would be wise for your coach to be present for the meeting as well.**

**Dr. Shirokov**

 

Any weight that may have been lifted off of Yuri’s shoulders came crashing back down when he read the last sentence. Yakov was going to shit yet another chicken, and Yuri was never going to hear the end of how he made the man step away from the ice for one whole hour just to fix a problem that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

He took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves before reaching for his phone and shooting out a quick text to Yakov.

 

 **< Yuri> **I need to borrow you for an hour tomorrow morning between 9.00 and 11.00

 **< The Man** **™ > **What did you do?

 **< Yuri> **Ok, so, don’t freak out

< **The Man** **™ > **…

< **Yuri > **I failed the first assignment in my psych class and my prof wants to meet with me… and you

 **< Yuri>** Do not kill me please and thank you

< **The Man** **™ > **For Christ’s sake, Yuri.

< **The Man** **™ > **You’re better than this.

< **The Man** **™ > **I’ll be there at 9, send me the location.

 

Yuri gave the building name and office number to Yakov before sending a reply to his professor telling her what time they’d be there. He closed his computer and placed it to the side before turning out the light and crawling under his covers.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to the conversation with his coach. Yakov seemed genuinely pissed and it was all because of him.

_You’re letting everybody down._

_You’re nothing but a failure._

Yuri realized he must have been shaking because he felt Potya curl up as close as possible to him in an attempt to comfort him. She was the only thing that could even remotely settle Yuri from the panic attacks brought on by his intrusive thoughts. He reached an arm around her and lightly pet her as his mind continued to race.

It was going to be a long night.

 

***

 

“A _tutor_?” Yakov spit out the word as though it were acidic.

Dr. Shirokov nodded firmly, causing a small, shorter section of greying hair to fall from her otherwise pristine bun. “Mr. Plisetsky has potential to do well in this course, but I feel he may need the extra assistance in reaching that goal. I can set him up with one of my grad students in the department’s tutoring program to ensure he receives the help he requires.”

Yakov looked at Yuri, who was trying to look anywhere but at the two adults bickering in front of him. He shook his head and turned back to the professor. “You do realize I have this kid training thirty-four hours a week, right? I can’t just dip into his ice time to go dilly-dallying with a tutor when the Olympics are right around the corner!”

“I am aware of Mr. Plisetsky’s predicament as an athlete and have a grad student that is flexible throughout the day,” her piercing gaze turned towards Yuri. “Unfortunately, there are really only four options here, Mr. Plisetsky. Accept the help you need and do well, don’t accept help and hope for the best, fail, or drop out.”

“I like option four,” Yakov grumbled.

Yuri whipped his head to the right to look at his coach, who was seated in the chair next to him. Yakov’s arms were crossed and he looked positively sour over the fact that his top skater was about to be tied down with even more responsibility.

_Look at how disappointed you’ve made him._

But this was something Yuri needed to do. He had to prove to himself that he was more than just an athlete, that he was capable of doing well in life after his final kiss and cry. Yuri turned his focus back to the woman sitting across from him. “I’ll work with a tutor.”

“Great!” Dr. Shirokov beamed and grabbed a business card, scribbling down a name on the back of it and handing it to Yuri. “I’ll let him know and he’ll contact you. You can meet with him whenever works for you, does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, um, thanks.” Yuri said, taking the card and placing it in the pocket of his leather jacket. After giving the woman his contact information, he stood up and began walking towards the exit. He could feel Yakov’s heavy stare boring into the back of his skull as he opened the door.

Campus was quiet for a Wednesday morning, although most classes were in session at this time. Yakov walked beside Yuri. He hadn’t said a word to him since they left, leaving fresh air weighted with tension as they made their way back to the rink. Yuri tried his best to hold an uninterested expression, but he could feel himself breaking. It was one thing to _give_ the silent treatment, but to receive it from somebody who practically raised you was another.

But before Yuri could say anything, Yakov spoke.

“I didn’t mean what I said back there, about the best option being dropping out. I was just angry because your professor reminds me of Lilia in her obnoxiously persuasive ways.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond, he wasn’t really sure _how_ to respond, he just kept trekking forward.

Yakov let out a sigh and continued. “Yuri, I’ve been supportive throughout this whole ‘I want to go to university’ thing. Mainly because I’ve always believed that you can do whatever you set your mind to. Lord knows you’ve proved it in your skating abilities.”

He looked at Yakov then. Though he remained phlegmatic on the outside, Yuri felt himself hollow out on the inside.

“It’s hard for me to see you struggle with something I know you care a lot about. But this is dangerous, you’re about to add more stress onto yourself and if it ends up reflecting on your skating, we’re going to have to have a serious talk.”

Yuri couldn’t pass on the opportunity. “I could have sworn the whole point of tutoring was that it was supposed to relieve some of the stress,” he smirked.

“God, you’re annoying,” Yakov muttered.

As they approached the large complex, Yakov opened the door to the rink but stopped to get a final word in. “I have faith in you, alright? But that doesn’t mean I’m going to start going easy on you during practice. The Olympics are coming up and we need to focus on getting that gold medal.”

Yuri gave a single nod and they went their separate ways, Yakov heading into the building and Yuri heading to his car.

The rest of the morning went on the same way it usually would. Yuri went home to take a nap and play with Potya for a bit before heading back for his three-hour lab.

There were only five minutes left in his lab and the young TA had practically fallen asleep at his desk, so Yuri took the liberty of checking his phone. He had multiple notifications, though most were just messages from Mila going off about how he had forgotten to put the lid back on the toothpaste again. As he was typing up his snarky response to the redhead, a new notification appeared from an unknown number.

 

 **< +7 812 756-08-22> **Hey Yuri, my name is Otabek. Dr. Shirokov has informed me you need some tutoring. Let me know when you’d like to get together and we can get started.

< **Yuri > **Is tomorrow at 17.00 okay?

 **< Yuri>** We could meet at the library?

< **+7 812 756-08-22 > **Sounds good to me. See you then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri meets up with his new tutor for the first time, and things don't exactly go the way he had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so blessed that you actually stuck around for another chapter, wow.
> 
> There aren't really any notes that I can think of for this chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Catch me on tumblr (@stfubrandi) and on twitter (@jedilecki)

**THURSDAY**

 

“Why are you nervous?”

Yuri sat back on his heels, wiping his brow with his forearm and briefly admiring his work before turning towards the redhead, who had perched herself on the counter in the bathroom. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Mila spread her arms widely and gestured towards the floor. She then brought up her other leg to sit cross-legged on the freshly cleaned surface. “You only clean when you’re really nervous, and right now you’re scrubbing that floor harder than a sweeper in a curling match.”

Yuri raised a finger to silence her. “Don’t mention that fake ice sport around me. It’s a disgrace.”

“It’s more entertaining than your lame programs,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, well, those ‘lame programs’ have paid for this house and your car.” Yuri turned his attention back to his task at hand and resumed scouring the travertine tiled floor as though his life depended on it.

“Curling is just as valid as figure skating; the Olympics say so.”

“Name one famous curler,” Yuri insisted, never taking his eyes off the ivory floor. It was silent for a few seconds, and when he realized he wasn’t getting an answer anytime soon, he huffed and continued. “It’s an abomination is what it is. Curling is the golf of winter sports, you don’t watch it unless you’ve thoroughly checked the entire television guide five times and found there’s nothing else you that could possibly watch. I’d rather watch hockey.”

Mila let out a theatrical gasp, and from the corner of his eye, Yuri could see her bring a hand to her chest. “Yuri Plisetsky, how dare you utter that word in this house!”

“Bite me, you melodramatic hag.”

“Just for that, I think I’m going to cheer for the Canadian figure skaters this year. They seem to have all of the better athletes anyways,” Mila paused. Yuri looked back at her with narrowed eyes and only then did he notice the smug grin on her face. “Like your best friend, Jean-Jacques Leroy!”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Okay, ignoring that false statement. First of all, that prick retired almost two years ago to be with his ‘true love’ and their unborn devil child. You couldn’t cheer for him if you wanted to.”

“Oh right, _that_ announcement. I remember now. It was a pity, really, he was so young and handsome, and the way he moved on the ice...” Mila trailed off, and Yuri was about ready to douse her in the water courtesy of the bucket next to him just to cool her off. Instead, he snapped his fingers, bringing her back to reality. “But I also remember you got excited over the fact that you could finally win for once.”

“Second of all,” Yuri stressed, giving her a sharp glare. “Canada is better at everything in the winter Olympics, that country is ninety percent arctic.”

“Okay, but Russia is too, so why don’t we have any good athletes?” Mila asked before dodging the soapy sponge thrown her way and watching it hit the mirror behind her. “By the way, you still haven’t answered my question!”

“What question?” Yuri asked, annoyed.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Stop lying,” Mila said as she brought a hand up to examine her nails. “You suck at it.”

“You know what?” Yuri started as he got up and retrieved the discarded sponge from the marble counter, dropping it into the bucket and sinking back down onto all fours. “I can’t wait until the day you move out.”

“Oh please, your life would be boring without me.”

That much was true. Mila had been Yuri’s best friend since his first ballet class, where she had approached him and asked if he wanted to warm up with her because of how terrified and intimidated he had appeared, and from that moment on, they had been inseparable. They told each other everything, and Mila was the second person Yuri had come out to, following only a few days behind Viktor. Even after they had gone through hell and back a few years ago, they managed to find their way back to each other, and it was then that Yuri swore he would never let anything horrible like that happen to her again.

But who was he to admit any of that out loud?

“Perhaps, but if I’m lucky, maybe I could replace you with somebody who actually helps me clean instead of putting their dirty feet on the counter I just wiped down fifteen minutes ago!”

Mila shrugged one shoulder. “You love me,” she stated with confidence. “Besides, would you really want to be left here alone with Viktor and Yuuri? Imagine the endless ‘feelings’ talks.”

Yuri shuddered. _The horror._

“I’m just a little nervous about this tutor thing, alright?” Yuri said has he picked at a loose thread on the beige towel beneath his knees. “How do I know that this person’s even going to be able to help me?”

“Aren’t they a grad student?” Mila asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah? So?”

“ _So_ ,” she said, extending the syllable for longer than necessary. “Most grad students know their basic shit, Yuri. You’ll be fine.”

He sighed. “I can’t mess this up, Mila, you know that.”

“Yeah, because we know exactly what happens when you fail at something. Might I remind you of the dance-off at Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding?”

“We do not speak of that in this household,” Yuri snapped back.

Mila laughed, her head falling back against the mirror. “Man, after that you were so devastated that you curled up in fetal position right in the middle of the dance floor. I can only imagine what failing a whole course would lead to.”

“I was drunk. Are you ever going to let me live it down?”

She looked back at him, smiling broadly and shaking her head, loose red curls swaying across her face with every turn. “I always took you for a lightweight, didn’t think you could hold your alcohol like that. You’re so tiny.”

Yuri internally cringed at the comment. “Stop mocking my size, Baba. Now, either help me or get lost, the toilet isn’t going to scrub itself.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just hire a maid to clean, it’s not like you don’t have the money for it.”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to let some stranger come in and wander around my house?” Yuri questioned. “That’s how things end up missing. Besides, I do a perfectly fine job of cleaning up after you gremlins.”

Mila momentarily appeared taken aback before composing herself once again and smiling. “Hey, Yuri?” she asked, feigned innocence dripping from her voice.

“What?”

Before he could stop her, Mila grabbed the can of shaving cream sitting on the counter, shaking it vigorously and spraying the white foam along the mirror behind her in a downwards motion. “You missed a spot.”

Yuri scowled and snapped his arm out, pointing at the door.

“ _Get… Out_.”

 

***

 

After the debacle with Mila during his afternoon break, Yuri had spent an extra ten minutes cleaning up after her. When he finally had a chance to read the time, it registered that he only had thirty minutes before he was supposed to meet Otabek at the library. Yuri had snatched his backpack off the floor and sped out of the house. Though it was only a fifteen-minute drive to campus, rush hour traffic was a bitch.

Yuri rolled up to the library’s parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare. Upon realizing he still had time, he pulled out his phone and slumped back in the driver’s seat, lifting one knee to rest against the steering wheel, the other remaining on the floor.

He used the opportunity to scroll through his Instagram. Viktor had posted yet another picture of him and Katsudon from their wedding day and tagged it _#TBT_ , while Mila opted for a picture of Potya curled up with a sleeping Totoshka with the caption ‘ _now, if only their owners could get along this well’_. Yuri rolled his eyes at the comment but found himself liking the picture anyways because look at how cute his little Potya was! He quickly skimmed through his notifications, occasionally liking and commenting his thanks on a few posts that he’d been tagged in by the Angels. While most of the posts were harmless, he’d sometimes come across some rather disturbing ones that made him want to gouge his eyes out.

A few minutes had passed before Yuri was brought back to awareness when he saw a dingy Civic (that must have been older than he was) pull up to the right of his car. After killing the engine, its driver got out of the vehicle and briefly stretched. Though the actions were nothing out of the ordinary, his attire is what really caught Yuri’s attention, and Yuri tried his best not to stare, but he just looked so _good_. The driver wore a sleek black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt and dark grey jeans that hugged in all the right places. The ensemble was accompanied by a deep crimson scarf, and even though the roof of his car was blocking his view of the driver’s face, Yuri didn’t care. As the driver walked around the back of Yuri’s car towards the library, all Yuri could think of was how he wanted to f—

Time came to a screeching halt, and Yuri swore he could hear a record scratch in the distance as he recognized the dark brown undercut almost instantly.

He waited for two minutes after the bane of his existence had disappeared into the library before grabbing his bag from the passenger’s seat and going in. As he walked up the stairs to the fourth floor and back towards the archives, Yuri’s stomach lurched when he noticed there was only one other person sitting in the area that him and Otabek had agreed to meet.

“ _You_.”

“Hello, Yuri,” the jackass smirked. “I’m Otabek, your tutor.”

Yuri’s left eye twitched.

_Oh, hell no._

“Fuck no, I don’t need this and I sure as hell don’t need you,” Yuri said as he began to turn around and walk away.

“Oh, but I think you do,” Otabek said, causing Yuri to stop dead in his tracks and whip back around to face him. He calmly reached into his bag and pulled out a small stack of papers. After shuffling them and placing them neatly on the desk in front of him, he lifted his gaze to Yuri. “If your assignment mark was anything to go off of.”

“Wait a second, doesn’t that mean…” Yuri trailed off.

Otabek quirked an eyebrow.

“You knew!” Yuri hissed, realization hitting him like a freight train. “You knew this entire time that it was me, a person that hates your guts, needing a tutor and you still accepted the job! Is this all a game to you? Are you trying to torment me?” Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Are you stalking me?”

Otabek snorted. “Okay, now you’re overreacting. I’m just doing my job. It’s not as though I was going to deny my supervisor because you hold some personal vendetta against me over a bottle of water. I understand that Tuesday was a bit of an underwhelming first impression and for that, I apologize. Can’t we just bury the hatchet and start over?”

“Fine,” Yuri mumbled after mulling it over for a few seconds. This course was important to him, and if this was the only way to help him understand, then he’d just have to endure these study sessions. He let his bag fall from his shoulder onto the ground and sat defeatedly in the chair opposite of Otabek. “But I’m not going to enjoy this for one second.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Otabek said as he patiently waited for Yuri to pull out his materials until he was completely set up. Being aware of his surroundings, Otabek lightly clapped, keeping his hands together as he looked down at his notes before meeting Yuri’s eyes again. “Would you like to get to know each other a bit, first?” Otabek proposed.

“No,” Yuri deadpanned.

Otabek mirrored Yuri’s stoicism but gave him a single apprehensive nod while holding his gaze.

It was then that Yuri took note of the color of Otabek’s eyes. Rich, dark brown irises reminding him of the hearts of the espresso shots he indulged in every morning. Powerful, smooth as velvet, and like the beverage itself, they made him feel warm inside.

That warmth swimming around in Yuri only intensified when Otabek’s face softened and he sighed. “I get it, this can be overwhelming, even more so when you already have a result from it.”

“It’s just embarrassing, okay?” Yuri snarled. “I can go on live television and deliver two flawless routines to millions once a month with no fear, but I can’t handle the thought of getting a bad grade and being judged on my intelligence. I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Otabek immediately shot back. “And I’m not a professor, Yuri. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to help you,” he added reassuringly. It seemed as though he had gone into deep thought for a brief moment before he perked up. “Think of me as your coach!”

“Absolutely not.”

Otabek smirked and shrugged. “It was worth a shot. But in a way, think of it like your training. You learn your programs through repetition, correct?”

“I guess, but that’s how I learn most things. I tried it with this and look how that turned out.”

“Alright. Just pick a topic and we’ll see what we can do.”

Yuri nodded and scanned through his textbook in hopes of finding a decent topic until he came across a word that made him internally wince. It had been making its way into conversations more and more lately, and it was starting to take a toll on the skater. “Dementia,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

Otabek must have noticed the sudden change in his demeanour because his next words were slow and gentle. “Okay, that’s an umbrella term, let’s try and go a little bit more in depth.”

Snapping out of it, Yuri quickly brought his gaze to the man sitting across from him. “Huh? Oh…” he said, shaking his head and looking back down, rapidly searching the bold headers for a topic that wouldn’t upset him. “Lewy body?”

A smile ghosted across Otabek’s lips before he started rambling in detail about the subject, and Yuri was only able to maintain concentration for about two sentences before he completely lost his focus. Otabek was so animated when he talked about the things he cared about, perhaps he _wasn’t_ the worst thing ever. Slightly regretting his rejection of the offer earlier, Yuri wondered what other things Otabek was interested in.

 _Perhaps a certain blonde Olympic silver medali—_ No. _No._

Otabek let out a sigh. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“… Yes.”

“Really?” Otabek asked disbelievingly. “Name one symptom of Lewy body.”

Yuri froze and could suddenly hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. All he could do was sputter incoherently, he didn’t have an answer for him. Green eyes fixated on the back of a chair across the room as Yuri tried his best to look anywhere but at the man across from him. He felt his hands and legs start to shake uncontrollably, and his thoughts were no longer his own.

_Can’t even pay attention for five minutes. You deserve to fail._

“Yuri,” Otabek started with a firm tone, trying to recapture the blonde’s attention. Yuri swore he could see him from the corner of his eye, reaching for his trembling hand on the desk but immediately pulling back. Otabek’s voice softened but he remained serious as he continued. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk about it?”

“No, I just—” Yuri paused. He knew where this was going, and all anxiety that previously inhabited his body was quickly replaced with a vicious resentment. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Whatever the fuck it is you’re doing.” Yuri spat.

“I’m just trying to help, Yuri.”

Yuri’s eyes finally tore away from the chair to look directly into Otabek’s. “No, you’re trying to get inside my fucking head! You people are all the fucking same, you pretend like you give a shit but it’s always for your own personal gain, isn’t it? I don’t actually mean anything to you, I’m just a story for you to tell as an ice breaker at parties.” He shot up from his seat and began packing up his belongings, stuffing them into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder and looking back at a stunned Otabek.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” he said calmly. “I don’t need this and I sure as hell don’t need you.”

 

***

 

The next morning, Yuri descended the large staircase, taking each step slowly as his eyes traced the detailed iron railing, starting at the base and working their way up to the wooden banister. Once he reached the bottom of the steps, he stopped momentarily in the foyer and peered out the window. It had snowed overnight, the fresh thick blanket sparkling in the dim artificial light of the street lamps. Though it was an enchanting sight, it left Yuri with an intense acrimony at the thought of going for his habitual Friday morning run, so he decided to skip it, telling himself that he’d make up for it at the studio later. Viktor’s car was still parked out front, a sight Yuri found odd considering Viktor always opened at his job on Friday’s. Yuri spun around on his heel and continued towards the dining room, taking his normal spot across from Katsudon and next to Mila, who was seated at the head of the table. The dining table was big enough to fit eight people – ten, if they really wanted – but the four of them only ever sat together on one side.

Yuri furrowed his eyebrows and gave a sudden upwards nod to Yuuri, grabbing the latter’s attention. “I saw Viktor’s car parked out front, did you drive him to work this morning?”

Yuuri shook his head slowly as he finished sipping his tea, bringing his mug down and cupping it in both hands. “No, h—"

“Good morning, Yurio!” Viktor sang from the kitchen. He approached the blonde with a bowl of assorted fresh fruit, accompanied by a smaller bowl of Greek yogurt. He placed it in front of Yuri prior to taking his rightful seat next to his husband.

Yuri stared down at the bowl in confusion before picking up a chunk of pineapple and looking at his friend. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“One of the other shift supervisors needed somebody to take their open on Sunday, so I traded for it,” he said, placing his elbow on the mahogany surface and resting his chin on his hand. Viktor gazed into his partner’s eyes and smiled before continuing. “Now I get to spend all day with _mi amour_.”

Yuri made a retching noise. “Gross.”

Viktor shook his head and laughed, removing his elbow from the table. “Say what you want, Yurio, but one day you’re going to feel this profoundly about somebody, and all of this,” he gestured between himself and Yuuri. “It won’t seem so foreign.”

“Well, now, that’s debatable, Viktor. You’re pretty extra,” Mila piped up before bringing her attention to Yuri. “So, how was your study date? Was she cute?”

“Fuck off, Morning Breath.”

“Yeah, come on, Mila,” Yuuri said, reaching over and playfully hitting her shoulder before turning back to Yuri. “Was he cute?”

Fed up, Yuri used the spoon from his yogurt to catapult a grape straight at Yuuri’s face, but it was quickly intercepted by Viktor. The geezer wore the most ominous smile he had ever seen, and to say that it made Yuri uncomfortable would have been an understatement. If he were to wake up that night to Viktor hovering above him, looking down at him with that exact same smile while a holding a knife, he wouldn’t be surprised. Distracted by the daunting vision, Yuri jerked his knee up when he felt something wet swipe across his ankle, resulting in him bashing it against the underside of the table.

Gritting his teeth and clutching his kneecap, Yuri looked down at the culprit. “Get out of here, Толстяк,” he seethed, but when the curious pug only continued to sniff at his ankle, Yuri huffed. “Viktor, your mutt is trying to eat my leg.”

“Excellent,” Viktor commented as he stood up from his chair. “Come along, Totoshka, let’s get you some _good_ food.”

The dog happily obliged, waddling behind his owner with a wagging tail and disappearing into the kitchen.

Things fell into a comfortable silence, then. Mila and Yuuri both staring that their phones, Yuri silently examining one of the many pictures of the four of them that hung proudly on the wall. It had been taken roughly ten months ago at the airport, when Yuri had just arrived home from winning his third consecutive gold medal at Worlds in Switzerland. Yuri was extremely grumpy in the picture, having just sat next to a crying baby for two hours straight. But he knew his friends had been beyond proud of him, shown by their beaming smiles in the picture as they squished him to no end. Beside it sat a picture from many years prior after Yuri had won gold at his senior debut in the Grand Prix Final. Though in heavy contrast to the other picture, Yuri was all smiles as his grandfather embraced him tightly. After his victory, he had chosen to fly to Moscow for a week rather than immediately returning to Saint Petersburg. He had been welcomed home with open arms by his grandpa as well as those that had become a second family to him throughout his childhood.

Only a few months later, Yuri’s grandfather had been moved into assisted living.

“Uh, hello,” Mila waved a hand in front of Yuri’s face. “Earth to Yurio.”

“What?” Yuri groaned as he swatted her hand away.

“How did it go?”

“I walked out.” Yuri said nonchalantly.

Not a single second had passed before he felt what could only be described as the hand of God come down on the back of his skull. Yuri yelped as he brought a hand to his head and turned towards the silver-haired perpetrator. “What the hell is this?! National Injure Yuri Plisetsky Day?!”

“You walked out?!” Viktor yelled.

Yuri slouched back in his chair and crossed his arms. “He was an ass,” he murmured.

“Was he?”

“I mean, kind of…” Yuri broke eye contact with Viktor, not being able to take his disapproving stare. “But what does it matter? I don’t need him.”

“Yes! Yes, you do! You failed an assignment worth twenty-five percent of your final grade, Yurio. If you keep that up you’re going to fail the course in its entirety," Viktor reprimanded. "Fix this, because I’m not going to waste my time on you if you’re not actively trying to improve."

Yuri could only sit in silence and watch as Viktor walked away, muttering something under his breath about him being a pain in the ass. That's when Yuri's breath hitched. While this wasn’t the first time Viktor had ever snapped at him, this time it had felt a lot more personal.

_You’re nothing but a nuisance to those that actually care about you._

“Oh dear,” Yuuri exhaled quietly. “I’m sorry, Yurio. I’ll go talk to him,” he said before getting up and swiftly following after his husband, hearing the door to their bedroom click shut after a few seconds.

Yuri could hear Viktor from the dining room but couldn’t hear the only voice of reason, meaning that Viktor wasn’t backing down on his viewpoint. It made Yuri feel sick to his stomach, though he was grateful that Yuuri seemed to be defending him for once, or at least trying his best to get Viktor to stop yelling.

In an attempt to not spook him, Mila lightly tapped on Yuri’s hand a few times. When he finally looked at the redhead, she had a sympathetic tight-lipped smile. “Ready to hit the studio?”

“Please.”

 

***

 

Yuri stared at Otabek’s phone number for longer than any human would consider reasonable. Since the moment him and Mila had left the house all the way until now as they were stretching on the hardwood floor of the studio, Yuri’s eyes hadn’t left his phone. He knew he had messed up last night, and he didn’t expect that convincing Otabek to stay on as his tutor was going to be a cake walk, but he knew for the sake of his sanity that he had to at least try.

_He wants nothing to do with you._

Yuri tried to shove the unwelcome thought to the side. Otabek had actually cared, hadn’t he? No stranger had ever shown him the kindness and patience that he had, and he hadn’t even known what was going through Yuri’s mind last night.

_And you went and fucked it up._

Swallowing his pride, Yuri stood up and walked passed Mila until he was out of the room, closing the door behind him. When he finally mustered up enough courage to hit the call button, Yuri’s heart began to race. He started pacing back and forth, abruptly stopping his movement when he heard Otabek pick up after the third ring.

“He—” Otabek began, but a deep yawn quickly overcame him.

Yuri realized that he hadn’t even considered what time it was, and that most people weren’t normally up at ungodly hours like he was. He peered around the corner and glanced at the clock on the wall above the vacant reception desk.

_You called him at seven in the morning, you moron._

But Otabek had been at the rink on Tuesday, and he hadn’t seemed to be dying of sleep deprivation at the time, so it couldn’t have been a random shift, right? Yuri sifted through his memories back to a comment Feltsman had made years ago, telling Yuri that even though the rink wasn’t open to the public until later in the morning, the canteen would be open during his practice hours should he ever need anything. However, until Tuesday, Yuri had never required anything from the canteen, which meant that for the past few years, some poor sap had been getting up at the ass crack of dawn just to sit in that bland canteen and wait until the rink officially opened for the day.

That poor sap was probably Otabek.

Once the yawn had passed, Otabek tried again. “Hello?”

“Shit. I thought you’d be awake,” Yuri said quietly.

He was met with a deafening silence and Yuri mentally kicked himself for not planning this out better. Despite running this conversation over in his head hundreds of times since Viktor’s ultimatum at breakfast, it struck Yuri that he had no idea what he was supposed to say. In all of the scenarios he ran through, things had worked out. Otabek would laugh it off, forgive him, continue to tutor him, make out with him a litt—Yuri shook his head, now was _not_ the time. But what if they didn’t work out in the one instance that mattered?

“What do you want?”

_Fuck, he’s pissed. Abort._

“I want to try again,” Yuri blurted out.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send an e-mail to Dr. Shirokov regarding my resignation as your tutor.” Otabek demanded.

“Because…” Yuri trailed off as he struggled to come up with a valid reason.

_Because you treat me like a normal person with actual feelings._

Yuri rolled his eyes at the thought. Yeah, _that_ wouldn’t freak him out. “Because you know your shit and I don’t.”

Otabek let out an unimpressed laugh. “That doesn’t mean I’m the only one that knows my shit.”

_ABORT._

Yuri pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, for fu—you’re the only one that I _want_ tutoring me, okay? What I said yesterday… I said in the heat of the moment and I regret it.”

When he was faced with more silence, Yuri began to worry. He found himself wandering into the waiting area, sitting on one of the plastic blue chairs meant for the parents that patiently waited as their young ones honed their skills in the art of ballet. He was about to give in and beg the other man to say something, but his prayers were soon answered when he heard Otabek take a deep breath.

“Okay, you get one more chance. I’m not playing this game again, Yuri. If you’re not going to accept my help, I’m not going to keep giving you chances. I have my own life and matters to deal with.”

“I understand.”

“When and where are we meeting?” Otabek inquired.

“Are you available today?” Yuri asked, cringing when he noticed that he sounded a little too eager. He cleared his throat and lowered his tone. “It’s my day off. I’m about to hit the ballet studio for a few hours, but I’ll be available after 11.00.”

“Okay. Where?”

Yuri stopped for a moment. They couldn’t go to his house. Despite the fact that it would probably please Viktor immensely, him and Katsudon would have a field day knowing that Yuri’s tutor was as good looking as he was. Obviously, he didn’t want to encroach on Otabek’s privacy by suggesting his place, and the library wasn’t even an option because Yuri didn’t want to have to practically whisper full conversations again. He settled on the one place he knew he would never find the geezer on his day off. “Starbucks in the Nevsky Centre?”

“I’ll be there at 11.30.”

Yuri let out an inaudible sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

There was a slight pause before Otabek replied. “You’re welcome,” he said. And with that, the line went dead.


End file.
